


Blessed Ground

by OnceInABlueMoon



Series: Collapsed Garden [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Dirt - Freeform, Gen, Gore, Mentions of Death, Monster - Freeform, Monsters, We Need To Talk About Kevin, decrepit windmills, predatory instinct, revenge that is subtly referenced to, s8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceInABlueMoon/pseuds/OnceInABlueMoon
Summary: “Now,” Dean peels his gaze from her face, and Emma realizes with a start, that he’d been assessing her too, studying her features “we find Sam.”Sam, right, big-shouldered, too tall, gun wielding Sam. Sam who killed her. Sam who killed her who is Dean’s brother. Sam Dean’s world (monsters talk in the underbelly of the underworld she’s heard the stories) that Sam Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of my Dean finds Emma in Purgatory AU! I hope you enjoy!  
> This work was not beta'd so all mistakes are my own, enjoy!

After Benny sprouts out of Dean’s arm like a writhing, thunderous flower, and settles his feet on the ground, shoes planted on rich soil, the first thing he does after make a witty remark is pull Dean into an embrace. Both their skin is sooty, covered in a fine layer of dirt, Benny from Purgatory and Dean’s from where dirt had splattered on his skin from all his digging (he’d refused to let Emma help, like he had to do it himself like it was his job) sweat turning it into a fine sheen. 

Moonlit shadows lick at their cheekbones where they filter in through the tree line and Emma’s ears pick up the sound of creaking wood as the decrepit windmill a few feet away turns sluggishly. The wind blows, mixing a cocktail made up of scents; Dean’s woodsy and dirt, Emma’s a faint strawberry, and the rusty smell of Benny’s bones. 

Emma licks at her teeth, thinks of a wolf running its tongue over its maw, and tastes the faintest trace of black of licorice stuck to her molars, she recognizes it from Purgatory, this is the taste of magic. 

Benny rolls his neck, spine popping, and Emma tries not to flinch as she hears the unnatural pull of muscle in an otherwise dead body. It sounds like leather being twisted until it’s bent out of shape and then snapping back into place. Dean doesn’t say anything, probably because he can't hear it, his eyes fixed on Benny’s face as fangs sprout out of his gums. Dean’s expression is sly and foxlike but not in a good way. 

“Everything working?” Emma asks, lips itching. She can feel her own fangs nudging below the surface of her jaw, just waiting to slide right out, her nails prickling. She can’t help it when her claws extended just a little. 

“Good enough,” Benny says and then reaches out hand to touch Emma’s hair where it hangs over her shoulder in a neat braid “Don’t you look nice Em.” She touches his hand, briefly as he withdraws it, just the brush of her fingers against his chilled skin. She and Benny, they’re not friends, but when she's around him she doesn’t feel so animal in comparison. Feels like she doesn’t have to worry so much about killing him, maybe it’s because he’s already dead. Whatever the reason she appreciates the reprieve. 

“Like we talked about I guess.” Dean says when Benny straightens and Benny nods expression grim, blue eyes glinting like quartz in the moonlight. 

“Then this is goodbye.” 

“Keep your nose clean Benny.” Dean says, tone authoritative. Around them the fireflies rustle the grass, creeping closer to their little triangle of freaky, more unnatural at every point. 

Benny nods and Emma shifts away slightly as he moves back, hand on Dean’s plaid covered shoulder 

“We made it brother.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says and smiles, but it doesn’t look real “we did.” 

…

They go their separate ways, Benny walking in one direction and Dean and Emma driving in the other we're they're piled into a rusty trap of a car. The seats are pulled and scratched, stuffing coming out at the edges and there’s an annoying disco ball shaped thing hanging from the little mirror that blocks what Emma remembers is called a windshield. 

Next to her Dean is silent, but there’s an expression of longing on his face and Emma thinks of the black muscle car that had been parked in front of his motel when she’d gone up to kill him. She’d been cocky and, arrogant remembers thinking that if she got rid of Sam too, maybe the elder amazons would let her keep it as spoils of war. 

As the car creaks and groans Emma's stomach lurches, she can feel herself going green at the edges, nausea making her stomach coil tight, never mind, she never liked cars. 

“So now what?” Emma asks and Dean gaze flashes to her. Sitting there, his hair a tousled wreck, his skin covered in dirt, she thinks this is the most they’ve looked alike since purgatory. 

Back the motel when Dean had come out of the bathroom, fresh from his shower, Emma had tried to find a trace of herself in his features. Tried to see similarities in the slope of his nose or the cut of his jaw or the bottle green color of his eyes. But Emma had a button nose, and a heart shaped face and her eyes were more hazel than green. 

Now though, Emma feels like she knows Dean, if only a little. 

“Now,” Dean peels his gaze from her face, and Emma realizes with a start, that he’d been assessing her too, studying her features “we find Sam.” 

_Sam_ , right, big-shouldered, too tall, gun wielding Sam. Sam who killed her. Sam who killed her who is _Dean’s brother_. Sam Dean’s world (monsters talk in the underbelly of the underworld she’s heard the stories) that Sam Winchester. 

In the back of her mouth Emma feels her teeth ache, here in this moment her skin seems to itch and she thinks about Benny blooming from Dean’s arm like brightly lit flesh and Emma’s throat aches hotly in a way that tells her it can only be soothed by the taste of fresh blood. 

“Right,” Emma says voice soft, insides made of bullet casings “Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come be my friend on tumblr @ http://thetardismademedoit.tumblr.com/
> 
> Reviews are like cookies, yummy and full of love!


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